


If Cats Could Text You Back, They Wouldn't

by coconuticecream (staymonkey)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Veterinarian, Damian Wayne is a Tough Shelled Veterinarian, Hot Vet AU, Jon Kent is an Executive's Assistant Living in Gotham, Multi, Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life, Tags to be Updated Regularly, can i make it anymore obvious, everyone is aged up, including the pre-existing adults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymonkey/pseuds/coconuticecream
Summary: Fresh out of undergrad and deep into his first quarter-life crisis, Jon Kent moves to Gotham to live with his cousin and work for philanthropist executive Selina Kyle. But when a work errand introduces him to the Gotham elite's prized but prickly veterinarian, Damian Wayne, Jon can't help but fall in love with the city. Definitely just the city.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, TBD - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	If Cats Could Text You Back, They Wouldn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahworm/gifts).



“Yes, Mom, the move’s going fine,” Jon promised as he placed his one, meager box on the crowded kitchen table. Behind him, in the living room, Kara was lugging three stacked boxes of books as if it weren’t a near-impossible feat. “No, no, no need to call Dad! It’s seriously cool, Kara and I are killing it,” Jon said, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder so that he could shift boxes and pens and things around on the table, to clear up space for… more boxes. “Well. Kara is.”

“Yo, tell Lois I said hi!” Kara called, squatting to deposit her boxes on the floor. She stood and dusted off her hands, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And that no one needs to buy you another book for at least two years.” Kara surveyed the room. It was a haphazard mess, all her things and furniture shoved aside to make room for her little cousin. Jon, not for the first time, felt a pang of guilt. But the last time he’d apologized for the intrusion, Kara had threatened him, and so he bit his tongue.

“Kara says hi, Mom. And she thinks you should buy me just a few more sci-fi novels, she’s pretty upset by how few I have.”

“Ha, ha,” Kara snarked, tossing a packing peanut at Jon. “When you’re off the phone, we’re going to need to run a few errands. Your posters need frames, I need laundry detergent, and we’ll both want to drop off the empty boxes with recycling as we get you unpacked. If we wait, it’ll just create more clutter.”

Jon gave Kara a quick nod, before saying, “They’re not all sci-fi! Of course, I still have it. And that one. I’ll read them all; I’ll have time now that I’m out of school. For now, I know, I know.”

While Jon spoke to Lois, Kara began to sift about the boxes, popping open a few labeled “miscellaneous” and “junk drawer.” She poked around but couldn’t find whatever it was she was searching for, and so she gestured to Jon.

He glanced her way and Kara said, “Ask her where Clark packed your pepper spray. I have some, but you need to get in the habit of taking yours with you when you leave the apartment.”

“Hey, where’d Dad—I’m sorry, what?” Jon moved the phone speaker away from his mouth to squint at Kara. Kara raised her eyebrows. “I don’t have any, why would I have pepper spray?”

“Oh, honey, this isn’t Metropolis. You’re in Gotham now, pepper spray is as big of a must here as shower shoes are for a college freshman. I’ll have my friend swipe some from her dad for you. She’s got access to the good stuff, police-brutality grade.”

Jon gawked. “What—oh, oh, yeah, no, Mom, everything’s fine, Kara’s just telling me about her friend. Listen, I’ve got to go, lots to unpack and I still owe Kara lunch,” he shot Kara a wary frown, “but I’ll give you a call once I’m a bit more settled in. Tell Dad I love him. And remind him to text me his buddy’s e-mail address, I still need to write him a thank you note for getting me the job. Alright. Love you, bye.” Jon hung up the phone and slipped it in his pocket. He turned to Kara.

“I have questions,” he said. “Namely about your friend stealing pepper spray from her dad. But also: why on Earth would I need pocket-sized tear gas?”

Kara smirked. “It’s not tear gas. And Babs isn’t really stealing. Her dad’s a detective with the GCPD, he keeps pepper spray and stun guns like they’re jars of candy. But enough of that, I apparently need to brief you on this town. We’ll just have to do it while we unpack. Can’t have you unprepared for your first big day tomorrow, yeah?” Kara said, plopping to the ground and pulling books from the boxes to place next to her own in her expansive shelves.

Jon joined her, willing away his flush as she paused to read the cover of a particularly pulpy novel. His earlier jokes aside, he was more than a little self-conscious that his books about intergalactic squabbling would sit right next to her essay anthologies.

“Help a gal out, won’t you? This is what happens when you’re raised by Clark instead of by Ma and Pa,” Kara chided, shoving a box his way when she caught him chewing his lip. Jon crossed his legs, and began sorting through his various knick-knacks, pulling a few out to place on the shelves next to the book spines. It wasn’t an efficient way to unpack, but Kara was the only thing that wasn’t strange and new and uprooting about his move, and he wanted to soak in her easy confidence. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her while he was away at university and she was away in Metropolis’s sister city.

“Sorry, everything’s just so… different,” he said. “Now. Here. Thanks again for letting me bunk with you.”

Kara nudged him with her shoulder. “Anything for my favorite baby cousin. And I’ve got plenty of room, so I really can’t complain.”

Jon looked over his shoulder. Even crowded with boxes and a dolly, the living room looked spacious. When he’d first walked in, he thought it might have looked large because of the open floor plan. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the hardwood floors, high ceilings, and exposed brick.

“Yeah,” he said, stealing a glance at Kara, who was painstakingly alphabetizing the books. “This place is kind of amazing, I can’t believe I never crashed here before.”

Kara grinned without looking up. “I can’t either! I always told you I had a great set up here. My rent’s subsidized, but even without a generous property manager, Gotham rent’s comparatively low for a coastal city. Something about violent crime and infamous ne’er-do-wells and property value, I guess.”

“You never mentioned your rent’s subsi—” Jon began, but Kara was quick to interrupt.

“So how excited are you to work for _the_ Selina Kyle?” Kara gushed, voice a touch too saccharine. Jon quirked an eyebrow, but Kara continued, “She’s like Gotham royalty, you know. CEO, philanthropist, avid cat fanatic. Truly the whole package. She’s going to be crucial for networking around here. You can’t depend on my press pass for everything.”

Jon grimaced. “You sound like Mom. I don’t want to network. I don’t really know what I want to do yet. I’m just glad I’ve got a job that isn’t journalism. No offense.”

Kara rolled her eyes with a snort. “None taken. While journalism _is_ a heroic venture and America’s last stand against tyranny, I know you’ve got to figure yourself out in your own time. This isn’t a bad city for that kind of thing. Just run errands for Selina and hang out here for a while. Some separation from your parents will help too. Maybe? If you’re real lucky? You can just marry rich and not worry about _anything_.”

Jon threw a decorative pillow at Kara, which led to Kara setting aside her books to throw the pillow right back. And then she was grabbing for another pillow off her chaise, so, of course, Jon had to scramble for the couch cushion. By the time they were finished, the living room was wrecked, the boxes were yet to be unpacked, and they were both worn out enough to order takeout instead of going out.

Jon had a feeling he’d like it in Gotham.

* * *

A few days into his new job as Selina Kyle’s personal assistant and Jon was exhausted with Gotham.

His commute wasn’t terrible, Kara’s apartment was situated in a convenient space uptown (too convenient, he’d have to tease out what was up with her rent before the mystery of it drove him mad) and his work reimbursed bus fare. But the rumors of Gotham’s outlandish and prevalent criminal element weren’t exaggerated in the slightest. The walk from Kara’s apartment to the bus stop was rife with shady characters, ranging from shifty-eyed passersby to leering men in full circus clown apparel. The clowns wouldn’t bother Jon so much if Kara hadn’t filled him in on the infamous Joker gang.

The bus ride wasn’t significantly better. It was crowded, dimly lit, and stank terribly. There was usually at least one person spouting off about the apocalypse, and there was one man in particular who liked to preach about the existence of a “fourth world,” complete with “new gods” and an “anti-life equation.” Jon decided to take a break from sci-fi novels, just while he adjusted.

Gotham was dour, and work was busy.

Ms. Kyle was a kind, if eccentric, boss, but she led an extraordinarily busy lifestyle. Jon had assumed, because of the job title and because he’d gotten the job through his dad’s connections, that he’d be given menial tasks and clerical work. And while he did pick up coffee and answer phones, he also found himself handling nonprofit finances, writing grants, calling potential donors, canvassing local businesses, running errands for the local animal shelters, and, in the case of one persistent company guest, managing security.

“Sir,” Jon insisted, his irritation swallowed by his extremely put-upon customer service voice. “Sir, I believe we just spoke.”

Jon was standing in the lobby of Ms. Kyle’s high-rise office suite, and he was firmly planted between the entrance to the suite and Ms. Kyle’s private office. Before him stood a man he’d already met several times over. The man had poor posture, a pinstriped suit, a fedora, and sunglasses. This was, by Jon’s count, the fourth time in three days that he’d seen the man in that lobby and wearing that exact outfit. A thick, synthetic mustache perched precariously on the man’s upper lip. The mustache was new.

“No, no I don’t think we have,” the man said in an exaggerated Jersey accent, waving his hand flippantly. “Never mind you. My gal in? I’m here to see my gal.”

Jon blinked. When he’d asked Ms. Kyle about the quirky character after his first appearance under Jon’s watch, she’d told him he was harmless and not too pay him too much mind. Jon wasn’t convinced. 

“Sir, you’ll have to make an appointment. Ms. Kyle is currently out of the office.”

“Oh, I can wait—” began the man. Jon took a deep breath and widened his smile.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but she won’t be back in today. If you make an appointment, I can ensure her availability—”

The man grunted, waving his hand dismissively again. The man’s sleeve rode up, and Jon thought he’d caught the glint of a Rolex. He quickly dismissed the assumption. It wasn’t as if Jon could really tell the difference between a pawn shop watch and a Rolex from where he was standing and, besides, this wasn’t the type of man who looked like he could afford one of those.

“I’ll just come back later,” the man muttered, turning around and shuffling out. Jon returned to his desk, and a few minutes later Ms. Kyle materialized from her office.

“Jon, was there a visitor?” she asked, gliding over the plush carpet in her five-inch Louboutin’s to tower over Jon’s desk. She was a slight woman, but Jon wasn’t sure anyone had ever told her that or that she’d believe them if they did. “I heard a voice, but I was on the phone.”

“Just your admirer, Ms. Kyle,” Jon said, with a sympathetic grimace. “I told him he’d need to make an appointment.”

She smirked and touched her drop diamond pendant necklace absently. “Let me guess—he politely declined to do so?”

Jon nodded, and then rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, he might actually be dangerous, Ms. Kyle. A lot goes on in this town, and he seems pretty persistent. Are you sure you don’t want me to call building security?”

She dropped her hand. “No, no I wouldn’t worry,” she said, procuring her cellphone from her cross-shoulder clutch. Her long, stiletto nails clicked as she typed. “He’s harmless. I don’t blame you for feeling a little unnerved, but he’s an office staple and if I wasn’t comfortable with him here, he wouldn’t have made it out of the elevator.”

Jon flushed. “Oh, uh, I just meant, uh—” he babbled, unsure of what to make of Ms. Kyle’s tone. She peered up from her phone with a gentle smile, which he’d come to associate as her, ‘bless your heart’ expression.

“Never mind him. Do you mind running an errand for me? It’s a bit unprofessional, but I’ll pay you time and a half and you can take the rest of the day off.”

Jon cocked his head. “Of course, Ms. Kyle,” he said. “I don’t mind coming back afterward, though.”

She shook her head. “You’ll want to go home after this, trust me. One of my kittens, Isis, has a vet appointment, but my meeting with Parks and Recreation about that Robinson Park event got moved up because of a scheduling conflict. Do you mind taking her? I’ll give you a spare key to my place so that you can pick her up and drop her back off. It’s a wellness visit, shouldn’t take more than an hour.” 

Jon blinked, waiting for the catch. Selina pursed her lips. Jon blinked again.

“You’re wondering what's so bad that you'll want to go home,” Selina said. Jon shrugged.

“Kind of,” he offered.

Selina nodded. “My vet is very good at what he does, and he comes from a very well-respected family,” she began. Jon grimaced, catching her trajectory.

“But he’s a menace, isn’t he?” Jon asked. Selina shrugged.

“He can be prickly,” she amended. “Once you get to know him, he’s an absolute doll. He’s just… abrupt to newcomers. He doesn’t have to rely on new business, he’s that well-established, and it shows. Just try not to take anything he says personally, okay?”

Jon shifted. “Uh, okay. Do you want me to come by and drop your key off when I’m finished?”

Selina buried her hand in her clutch and shuffled around, presumably for the spare key. “No, no. Keep the key, I may need you to run other errands in the future. Not personal ones like this, I promise I respect your time more than to send you on chores.” She procured a bronze key and held it out to Jon, who took it with some trepidation. “But just this once.”

“Of course. I don’t mind it,” Jon said, slipping the key into his pocket where it weighed heavy. “I really can’t complain about getting to leave work to hang out with a cat.”

Selina beamed at him, and he knew he’d said the right thing. “Do you have one of your own?” she asked.

“Uh,” Jon winced. “My cou—roommate, Kara, does. An orange tabby named Streaky. Streaky… hasn’t warmed up to me yet.”

Selina shot him another ‘bless your heart’ smile and he kicked himself for not quitting while he was ahead with her. “I’m sure she’ll come around,” Selina assured him. “And if you want to score points with your roommate, let her know that I can refer her to my vet. He’s very coveted, but he’s picky about his patients and tends to specialize in more exotic pets. Still, if I ask, he’d be happy to start seeing Streaky regularly.”

Jon blinked. “Oh! Uh, thank you. I’ll let her know. Thank you, Ms. Kyle.”

“Of course,” Selina returned to her phone, her nails clicking away. “I’ll call a car for you. Text me from my apartment, and I’ll order another one from there, and then another one to drop Isis back home and take you wherever you need to go.” Still typing, she began to walk away, back towards her office.

She paused just before closing her door behind herself to toss over her shoulder, “Oh! I almost forgot; his name is Dr. Damian Wayne. You should ask him about his bat sanctuary, he’d love that.”

Jon froze but for his jaw, which fell open.

“Wayne?” he finally spluttered. “Wait, Ms. Kyle—” but her door closed with a click. Jon ran a hand through his hair and blinked up at the ceiling.

Jon knew of only one Wayne family in Gotham. They were obscenely wealthy, scary influential, and the only reason Jon got a job in the city that paid enough for him to live comfortably and independently. He was lucky that his dad knew the patriarch, Bruce Wayne, from when his dad was on the tech beat at the _Daily Planet_. 

But surely there wasn’t any relation between this seemingly unpleasant exotic-pets-veterinarian and the household name keeping Jon in the city and out of Metropolis for the foreseeable future.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> I promised sarahworm this fic last January. It's currently December.


End file.
